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Mirror, Mirror by Nightshade-Black Mirror, Mirror :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 2 5 Wooden Geese and Yogurt by Nightshade-Black Wooden Geese and Yogurt :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 0 0 Oreichalkos by Nightshade-Black Oreichalkos :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 5 7 My Avatar by Nightshade-Black My Avatar :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 2 15
Literature
On a Break
It's torture to not know how you honestly feel...
Whether the things that I'm seeing are false or real...
Did you write this for me? To let me know?
Or are you trying to pretend...trying to put on a show?
This distance, this "break", this time apart...
You're tugging on the cord as it cuts through my heart...
That wound its way into me, every thought every part,
With a surgeon's precision, slicing my being apart.
Every smile, every touch,
Every time that you said it, a part of me knew that I'd come to regret it.
It would be harder...much harder...or maybe impossible for me...
To not be reminded by things that I'd see;
Every couple, every Benz, every unlighted street,
The fact that you aren't sitting in the next seat.
Sometimes I wonder if it was something you meant to say,
If you just said it because you thought it would be better that way...
To make me feel like you cared just as deeply,
To say things that would make me wobbly and weak-kneed...
But you're no trickster...I know deep in
:iconNightshade-Black:Nightshade-Black
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Literature
Tim is back and so is my smile
I felt for him and he for another,
A truth that in my heart burned.
Despite my want, my longing,
There was no love but unreturned.
A glimmer of hope,
A light,
Could his heart now be free?
Released from an unwanting clutch,
Might he now share it with me?
Alas, the bond of love,
Though unrequited is quite strong.
This tempter stole my peace away
And my torture it prolonged.
My heart was not and nor was his
Given any rest.
Aching and breaking;
Bursting beneath my chest.
It's been a year
That first I feared
I might love my friend named Tim.
And yet though those feelings continue,
The outlook seems no longer grim.
On faith,
On whim,
I went to him...
And explained that I had not changed.
That every day with out him was another filled with pain.
This time it was different- He liked me back!
I could feel it- I wasn't wrong!
I needn't worry that everything...
Or anything would go wrong.
He tells me that he misses me,
Longs for my embrace.
I wish deeply for the next moment when I will get to see
:iconNightshade-Black:Nightshade-Black
:iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 0 16
Colored Kitty by Nightshade-Black Colored Kitty :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 1 7 Portrait - My Ex by Nightshade-Black Portrait - My Ex :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 0 0
Literature
Just a Lamb
You wished for a lion, but I came to you, a lamb.
Disarmed and vulnerable, I showed you who I am.
To lead and to shepherd is hard for me to do,
As lambs are often hopeful, and believe what isn't true.
And so you saw no interest, or not enough, in me,
Though goodness and heart in you I did see.
Alas I am too tame, to unadventurous, you see.
There is no place for me in you,
A spirit wild and free.
This love, so unreciprocated, splits me right two.
One side blind to all but reason, the other seeing only you.
A lamb I am?  Are you sure...that nothing lies beneath?
A coward with his excuses hiding beneath a fleace.
I shed my protective woolen shield, for my vision it has blurred.
How I could waste a chance at love is more than absurd.
This lamb would grow fangs for you,
And not only lead the flock
But rule over an entire pride
With a roar that could shatter rock.
Against my nature works my will
To be what you will see.
Time has past
And yet it lasts;
My wish to be with thee.
:iconNightshade-Black:Nightshade-Black
:iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 1 3
Literature
'Holding a Shadows Hand'
My first attempt, and yes it failed
Left a gaping wound; my heart impaled.
A spear, it was, right from the stove
Into my heart, searing, dove.
Not just a fracture or simple cut,
But cauterized to never shut.
Thrown by an unknowing hand,
Yet at it's mark did it land.
A shadow as if only seen in my peripheral,
Somehow filled my heart, mind, body and skull.
This shadow blocks my field of view,
It's returned glances brief and few.
Lingering only as long as a sun-shower,
But leaving me as a wheat field after lighting; burned and scoured.
And though alone, I here now stand
I still try to hold the shadow's hand.
Hoping not just that he'll appear to me,
But that he in turn could just see me.
Please Shadow, become whole or be gone to me,
So that I might rejoice, die or in some way be free.
:iconNightshade-Black:Nightshade-Black
:iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 2 8
Child of Nature by Nightshade-Black Child of Nature :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 2 15
Literature
Be Solitary for Salvation
We cannot join
Because our loins
Would bare not fruit, but sin.
A union damned
By the creators hand
And shamed by all our kin.
And so doomed we are
To be apart,
And of society not a part.
They see only purity to be soiled,
Not matters of the heart.
They burn us till boil,
Prolong our toil,
And make light of what see as plight.
They'll leave us forlorn,
For how we were born,
What can't change try as we might.
:iconNightshade-Black:Nightshade-Black
:iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 2 15
Literature
Amarecoccal Lovengitis
What's an evil without age?
That sadistic plague, what cause my heart to beat like that of a horror-struck dove?
"Aye.." you say,
"tis that demon phage..."
"what goes by the name of 'love'."
An acid I think it should labeled,
What can burn through flesh and bone.
All except your ceasing heart
Left cold, bare, and alone.
There's no worse secret than the truth of a heart's toil,
The excitement of what could be,
And the fear of it being foiled.
Yet time does not a burial make,
Such would concrete, soil,
Marble or slate.
Best to leave it be, and simply try to escape.
The cold of deep caves brings comfort to me,
The better to escape this "love".
Love is in the air,
And heat rises there,
Where the hearts flutter with doves.
Therefore it is my theory,
And you may find this dreary,
That hell is in-fact up above.
That is why I seek peace
Near the roots of the trees,
And of my fruits, be none a pair.
:iconNightshade-Black:Nightshade-Black
:iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 1 5
John's Rune Charm by Nightshade-Black John's Rune Charm :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 4 7 Cosmic by Nightshade-Black Cosmic :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 0 6 I met someone in Romania... by Nightshade-Black I met someone in Romania... :iconnightshade-black:Nightshade-Black 2 7

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Activity


deviantID

Nightshade-Black
Chris(Hobbit)
United States
Current Residence: Clayton, NC
Favourite genre of music: Impossible to say seeing as how blurred and dotted the lines separating the genres have become.
Favourite photographer: I love photography but I'm not familiar with any names...
Favourite style of art: Same answer as the music genre Q.
Operating System: Windows Vista
MP3 player of choice: I just use my cellphone...LG Rumor
Shell of choice: I assume this means program...so...Firefox 3.5?...if not, then the Conch...
Wallpaper of choice: Currently it's some painting of a japanese girl I found on DA
Skin of choice: Originals usually.
Favourite cartoon character: Hmm...Batman...or Raven on Teen Titans...hard decision..
Personal Quote: If one day my existence is appreciated then I'll probably have a quote available.
Interests
So, months ago I met a guy at a party.  We hit it off and he drove about 80 miles to come see me.  We still hit it off but a week later he got back with his ex...fast forward about two or three months and he's broken up with his ex because he wants to be with me and I'm seeing him on Monday :) I feel very strongly toward him and I think he does too.

OK, story time.

                                Olivié

   She was the terror of midtown on this rainy Tuesday in September; leaping with reckless abandon from puddle to puddle in her purple galoshes, with no regard for the dryness of her fellow man.  She may have been old enough to drink, but her flannel skirt and denim jacket were straight out of Teen Vogue and she had no intention of “acting her age”, society be damned.  It was Tuesday and that meant $2 cappuccinos at Le Café Noir.  
   She knew it sounded cliche, a cafe with a French name, but she loved the place.   It was decked out with prints of black and white photos, old movie posters and silhouettes of famous people...she didn’t know who François-Marie Arouet was, but she loved the funny dress he whore in the artfully done charcoal that hung above her favorite chair.  
   Le Café Noir was her hangout, her lair, her burrow...but on this rainy Tuesday in September, Le Café Noir was closed; a small sign was stuck to the window that read “Closed for business pending inspection and approval.”  The sinister insignia of some evil government agency sat at the bottom of the page; the Devil’s black seal on his stationary from hell.  Where, now, would Olivié seek refuge?  Where would she drink earthenware cup after earthenware cup of cappuccino if not under the dim red fixtures of Le Café Noir? For the first time since high school graduation, she was at a complete and utter loss.  She turned and walked slowly, morosely past the cafe, looking through the windows as she passed.  Even through the darkened windows she could make out her chair- HER chair...and François with his funny dress...who would greet him now?  She continued to walk, but was met with the most disturbing of images yet.  
   A trashcan, filled to the brim with coffee cups. They were tall, short, bowl-shaped, thimble-sized, earthenware and glass.  Some broken and some whole, but all empty.  She picked up the top-most cup, teetering like a balance-less cherry upon a Sunday of doom; her thirst for coffee was the spear-like banana and her misery was the black fudge.  She stared at her warped reflection in the concave, porcelain bottom of the cup, the only color being the dry stains left from the last drink that this cup help.  She inhaled deeply.  “Aah, mocha latte with a dash of Cinnamon..drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after...”  She licked the inner rim of the cup, tasting the last vestige of mocha flavor that it held.  “Thy lips are warm,” She said as she dropped the mug with a crash and continued walking, “Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace, for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.” Her quote ended with a long, defeated sigh.
  • Drinking: Mint tea with dark cocoa.

Comments


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:iconrickhaigh:
RickHaigh Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
thank you for the fave, Chris ^^
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:iconrickhaigh:
RickHaigh Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
Big birthday :hugs: Chris.. hope you have a wonderful day. :cake:
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:iconnightshade-black:
Nightshade-Black Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2012
Thanks!! :)
Reply
:iconrickhaigh:
RickHaigh Featured By Owner Jul 16, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
you're welcome :)
Reply
:iconrickhaigh:
RickHaigh Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
hey you... thought i would stop by and say hi.. hope 2012 is treating you wel. :aww:
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:iconnightshade-black:
Nightshade-Black Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2012
Sorry for the uber-late reply. :( 2012 is going well so far :) How about yours?
Reply
:iconrickhaigh:
RickHaigh Featured By Owner May 3, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
hey you! aww, i'm glad 2012 is going well for you, Chris.. :aww:
and thank you, can't complain so far.. only 5 month in though.. lol
Reply
:iconnightshade-black:
Nightshade-Black Featured By Owner May 12, 2012
Good to hear! So what's new? Moved, new job, new relationship?
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(1 Reply)
:iconrickhaigh:
RickHaigh Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2011  Hobbyist Photographer
Happy birthday, Chris.. hope you have a wonderful day.. :hug:
Reply
:iconnightshade-black:
Nightshade-Black Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2011
Thanks Rik :) Sorry for the late reply. Been busy with school and life and haven't logged in for a while. How have you been?
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